don’t want to overdo it

12 November 2013

We now live in a house with stairs. After about 4 days of me hiking the stairs non-stop, I’ve instituted a pile policy: things that go downstairs are placed in a pile at the top of the stairs; things that go upstairs are placed in a pile at the bottom of the stairs. Whenever someone goes up or down, they are to take a pile in the proper direction. Even the ‘Saurus has to carry his own socks.

And yes, he climbs stairs. He’s quite graceful at scampering up and very….speedy about going down. We’ll just say he goes for the direct route rather than the proper stair-descending route. So far, he has yet to accomplish actually tumbling since he’s always supervised, but it’s not for lack of trying. I think he’s been watching too many penguin movies where they slide down on their bellies, head-first. Anyway, the pile policy. As we were heading up to bed, I started to gather up a pile and noticed Husband was already half-way up the stairs empty-handed.

Me: Ahem.Husband: Yes?Me: A little help with the stuff, please.(side note, as I was writing this, I replayed it in my head in my best Godfather voice. This kinda makes me sound like I belong in a mobster movie, not carrying dirty burp rags. Somehow, that seems cooler. And more scary than trying to talk Husband into helping with the laundry.)Husband: Nah, I’m good.Me: Really?! The reason being…?(At this point, it’s less Marlon Brando and more Katherine Heigl.)Husband: I don’t get my hands full before bed.Me: Oh don’t you now?(enter Frances McDormand…)Husband: Don’t want to overdo it.

And although one of us was trying to get out of chores, I had no good comeback. Therefore losing the word battle and thus, my point, and I had to carry both piles alone. Hunter House rule: lose the words, do the chores. It’s rough. Husband usually wins, not because he’s fantastically witty (he did, after all, once accidentally call himself a fruitcake), but because he makes me laugh so hard that I can’t provide a proper comeback. I mean seriously, “I don’t get my hands full before bed”? In what universe is that a thing? But he’s so convincing, I can’t help but laugh.

Me: Read what I just wrote.Husband: Why?Me: Because I’m writing that story about how you won’t carry stuff upstairs and it makes you sound like a total jerk. I want to make sure you’re okay with that.Husband: [laughing] I am a total jerk. I’m okay with that. Now bake me some cookies.

And that is why I love our marriage. (I did debate telling this story because there is no good way to tell it without making Husband seem like a jerk. Which he is very much not – he just enjoys ruffling my feathers. And tricking me into doing chores.)

But speaking of overdoing it, I made banana bread. And cupcakes. And cookies. And combined them because it seemed like the right thing to do. I wanted to make a gingerbread cupcake but wanted something a little different and just happened to spy some bananas fast approaching their “I’m going to start oozing out of the peel” date. You don’t know what that is? So it’s just me who lets produce sit on their counter, forgotten, for far too long? Good to know.

But somehow, against all odds, banana gingerbread works. I topped it with a brown sugar cinnamon buttercream and a gingerbread cookie. Because it is the holiday season and I love making gingerbread cookies. (You can find my gingerbread recipe here.)